


Last Night I Had A Dream

by The Tinglenator (Misha_McCarthy)



Series: Supernatural One-Shots [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: African Dream Root, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Dean Winchester Saves Sam Winchester, Djinni & Genies, Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Flashbacks, Gen, Nightmares, One Shot, POV Male Character, POV Sam Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Scared Sam Winchester, Short One Shot, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_McCarthy/pseuds/The%20Tinglenator
Summary: Both brothers are attacked by a djinn, and while Dean dreams about the perfect family, Sam goes through a series of horrifying experiences and can't seem to snap out of it. This calls for a little bit of African Dream Root and improvisation on Dean's part. One-shot from 2x20.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural One-Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877215
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Last Night I Had A Dream

"I'm pretty sure it's a djinn. They're all over the Quran… it labels them as 'wish granters'."

"So is this a Barbara Eden-style genie or what?"

"Not sure. I mean, the things have been feeding on humans for centuries…"

"... way hotter than that chick on Bewitched."

"Dean."

"Mm? Yeah. So, uh… where do we find one?"

"Ruins are mentioned a lot. The bigger the better, I guess. More places to hide."

"Huh. You know, I think I saw just the place a couple miles back."

"We should probably grab some more stuff."

"Nah, we'll just check it out. S'is probably nothing anyway."

"... Sure."

* * *

Sam glanced around the area. It looked like it hadn't been touched since cowboys were shooting each other at high noon. The ground beneath his feet might have once been gravel, but now it covered his boots in a layer of mud. None of this was right. House lights were off, windows boarded up. Where was everyone? Where was Dean?

He flipped open his phone to try calling, but it didn't look like there was service out here. Had Dean come with him? He certainly couldn't recall how he ended up ditched. It was just, poof, abandoned community. As his fingers traced through his hair and down his face, they collected mud and sweat, but no blood. That probably meant no concussion. Besides, if someone was going to hit him with a blunt object, they'd gag him, too. He wouldn't be left in the street.

Well, deserted or no, this place had to have a landline somewhere, at least. His boots sank deeply into the wet dirt, and came out slower each time. Sam had no idea why he or Dean would have come to such a silent place. Even on a hunt, they almost never had to venture into such remote places.

He turned a corner where the low sun didn't reach quite as well. The houses and yards were all the same; overgrown, abandoned. Except this time, there looked to be a clinic near the end of the road. Sam's mud-coated legs hurriedly carried him to the front of the quaint establishment, which seemed eerily familiar. Past a "Rivergrove Public Clinic" sign, it was just as dark and quiet as the rest of the area. The reception, the back rooms, the special-care areas… all deserted.

If anyone was going to be anywhere in this stupid place, it had to be in the local hospital. And if Dean was looking for him, it would make it a lot easier for them both if he stayed. In the meantime, Sam searched every room- all of which looked untouched- until he had gotten to the last check-up room at the end of the hall.

Lights came to life around him. "I've been waiting for this the whole time."

Sam turned around to face a straight-haired blonde in a nurse's outfit. She had to look quite a ways up to meet his gaze, but her expression was anything except frightened. Why did he feel like she should be frightened?

Finally, his subconscious kicked in and slammed him with a wall of memory from that town with the Croatoan virus. The wife who'd been infected, the doctors, and that one guy Dean was supposed to shoot but didn't for some reason. This girl had been the one panicking in every scenario, before she…

Being too late to react, Sam went through deja vu while the girl leapt onto him and sliced her own hand. The way her frenzied moments came to a halt and her expression sagged immediately after the echoing shot was as uncanny as ever. It was when his eyes travelled up to where Dean stood that things got foggy. Then it was as if everything snapped back into place, and there stood his older brother, held back by an older man. Both regarded him in reverence, but Dean seemed the more scared of the two.

He was sitting on a table in a doctor's room, being stared at from every possible angle while the survivors argued on whether they should flee, kill him, or both.

But wait… how had he gotten to the table…?

"I'm tired, Sam." Dean was skipping around, from where he'd stood by the door, to the edge of the table, to a cabinet some ten away. It was like watching a roughed up cassette play in real life. "I'm tired of this job, this life…" Sam watched as he removed an old pistol from his belt. "... this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it."

Dean looked up, as if expecting a rebuttal.

"I-I think I should go," he whispered. This wasn't Dean, not really- this was some weird trip, where memory lane was stretching onwards out of sight, and Sam couldn't find any other road. The pinching trick certainly wasn't helping.

There was a knock on the door. He let Dean open it to find the doctor who'd been testing blood samples. "You'd better come see this."

Instead of jumping from place to place, Sam was allowed to run out and join the other survivors at the front of the clinic. But when he burst through the front doors, the two guys weren't there like they should have been, if he was remembering correctly. And when he turned back around, the clinic was dark and overrun with vines like it had been when he first entered.

Alright, well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to wait in there for help. Maybe it wasn't wise to stay in this town at all- something had to cause those hallucinations, and it could still be around.

But as he passed by a house, Sam would swear he heard a TV in the living room, set to low. There was a feeling telling him to enter which he couldn't resist. He ended up only glancing into the living room, in favour of heading upstairs instead. There was no one around, though the place certainly looked lived in. Maybe it should have been familiar. Whether he knew how or why this place also seemed homely, it wasn't important, because Sam was being drawn to one room in particular. As he entered, he saw a man standing over a crib, dripping blood as if the man himself was a fountain. No, wait- it was the ceiling that had drops falling from it, all over the floor. Or maybe the walls.

Sam pulled a hand away from his aching head and Dean came rushing in, arms pinwheeling, the Colt in hand. "It's you," he said softly. Darkly.

It was only a second before he'd caught his brother's gaze, and instead of the man and the crib to his right, he could see Jo in the corner of his vision. From what he could make of her, she was gagged and bound to one of the poles in the old bar. "I begged you to stop me, Dean," he heard himself say. Somehow, he felt as though he had even less control in this situation than the previous ones.

"Put the knife down, dammit," Dean said, almost pleading with him. Shit! Why did he have a blade at Jo's throat?

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?" It didn't. It really didn't. In fact, he felt pretty amazing. No temperature fluctuations, no muscle pain, no fatigue. Demons had it nice, despite being… demons. "Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favour! Shoot me." He spread his arms wide, inviting the attack. "Shoot me!"

"No, Sammy. Come on." His brother had said, before blurring Sam's vision and melting his face off for a split second with holy water. "... demonic son of a bitch!" Sam didn't really understand what had happened until he was forced to run into an abandoned warehouse, finding a good spot before Dean would inevitably enter.

But Dean couldn't stop him, and he couldn't stop himself. He could kill Dean even if his brother couldn't do the same to him; and he would. No matter what he did, the demon wouldn't stop. It never even _flinched_ despite their internal struggle.

Sam felt the boards beneath his boots, felt the weird way the demon made him take each step. But, on account of not needing to aim, he was almost sure that he saw how much he'd- it'd missed. The bullet had dug into Dean's shoulder, which meant things went far better than the alternative. He didn't have much time to fret about the fact that his older brother hadn't resurfaced, though.

He was getting punched by Bobby.

Oh, and then got another face full of holy water.

Maybe it didn't hurt him permanently, but _damn_ that blessed H20 stung. Sam hated the fact that his hair was still sizzling as he laughed, and that he had to meet such a confused gaze while tied to a chair. There was obvious hatred for the demonic entity inside of him, but Sam knew he and _it_ could plainly see a brother's fear just behind the anger.

There was a blurry passing of time in which he had no chance of recounting what happened. While the demon tugged off the restraints as if they were made of soft cloth, the room morphed into yet another keep motel room.

The youngest Winchester took a moment to test whether or not he had full control over himself. His contentment was short-lived; Dean was quick to burst in and slam the door behind him. "What the hell have you been doing this whole time?"

Thoughts that weren't his filled in the gaps. _Demon blood. Lies. Secretive affairs-_

Dean approached him, each step harder than the last until he was so close that his head tilted upwards to look into his baby brother's eyes. There was a beat of indecision before Sam was propelled backwards, hearing more pissed shouts while his back met a poorly painted wall. "You told me you'd stop! I thought we'd agreed on something for the first time in…" Dean huffed, his way of saying "forget it". "Do I even know you anymore? Has everything been a lie?"

_"Last night I had a dream._

_You were in it,_

_I was in it with you."_

Dean watched the horrific scene from the washroom of the motel room, out of the sight within the confines of the dream. He knew djinn could induce terrifying thoughts, but this? He prayed it wasn't going where he expected it to. How the hell was he supposed to pull Sam out of it?

_"Everyone that I knew,_

_And everyone that you know was in my dream."_

The elder Winchester vehemently eyed the cheap bathroom radio in rage. Of course Sam's mind was churning this song over and over in his head. It wasn't even a very good song! It was incredibly tempting the smash the damned little piece of equipment then and there, but other things required his attention.

"I didn't mean for this, Dean! I'm sorry!" Sam cried with his back against two walls, staring down at the image of Dean with clear apprehension.

_"I saw a vampire."_

"I know you didn't. You thought I was some stupid ass that would follow your puppy-dog eyes around wherever they went. This can't go on any longer, Sam!"

_"I saw a ghost."_

Dean watched from the bathroom as his dream-self pulled out the Colt and faced its barrel towards Sam's chest.

_"Everybody scared me but you scared me the most."_

"Dean?"

_"It started out in a barnyard at sundown,_

_And everyone was laughing and you were lying on the ground_

_You said, 'Honey, can you tell me what your name is?'"_

"I don't know you anymore, Sam."

_"I said, 'You know what my name is.'"_

There was a click from the gun as Dean got ready to fire, but the real Dean had had enough of both the song and his brother's torment. Screw the possibility of messing the whole plan up, Sam thought he'd _kill_ him.

There was a resounding thud as the mini-radio broke on impact with the back of fake Dean's head. Somehow, it was enough to knock him out cold. Dream logic.

Sam was unsurprisingly shocked to see him walk out of the other room. They both just stood there for a second, and though Sam had been recently preparing to meet his end (and Dean felt like literally smacking some sense into him), the relief that overcame both of them was the same.

"Dean…?"

"I'm really sorry, Sammy." A few quick blinks. No reason. "I was a friggin' idiot… I guess I should listen to the Mathlete more often."

Sam shook his head and glanced from one Dean to another.

"I dunno what you've been dreaming of, but it's been a while, okay? I need you to snap out of it, dude. I stabbed that bugger more than twenty times and you're still over here eating imaginary burgers without me."

Sam's brows furrowed together with 'new' memories. "Wait, weren't you caught by the djinn too?"

"Yeah. I, uh, got out of it. My dream was a lot nicer than this. Now hurry up before I have to go drink more African plants."

Sam kind of smiled as things faded to white, but the lingering thoughts finally caught up with him as he came to on Bobby's couch. Could some premonitions have mixed in with his memories and dreamscape? Would he really have some movie-like secretive affair? Was Dean going to shoot him someday?

His older brother stretched in a nearby chair, catching Bobby's attention. It looked like Sam wasn’t the only one who had suffered a rough night. The concern in Dean's gaze was less annoying than it might have been a day ago; in comparison to his nightmare, it was a level of comfort he knew he'd always be able to find from Dean.


End file.
